


Drown Me

by erriikaa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Keith is dumb, Klance secret santa, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Angst, Pining, Rivalry, Secret Santa, Skater Keith (Voltron), Surfer Lance (Voltron), and frustrated, and hopelessly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erriikaa/pseuds/erriikaa
Summary: Keith is a skater. Lance is a surfer. Both amazing at what they do, but not so much when their roles are switched. A petty challenge turned into a rivalry. A rivalry turned into a friendship. And a friendship turned into... well, whatever the hell this is.Watch Keith suffer while he drowns in his feelings and may or may not consequently drown in the ocean(not really), merciless at the hands of ol' loverboy Lance.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56
Collections: Klance Secret Santa





	Drown Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fivtoo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fivtoo).



> This is a gift for @ fivtoo on instagram and twitter !! It is based off her Skater!Keith / Surfer!Lance AU that she has so many adorable drawings and comics of on her social media accounts! Had so much fun writing a mini fic for it and participating in this Klance Secret Santa exchange! I hope you like it Fivtoo !!! :))

Surfing is the bane of Keith’s existence. 

There’s no kinder way to put it. No sense trying to deny it. No amount of sugar coating he could possibly give to make the statement any less true. 

Surfing sucks. Simple as that. Keith will stand by that fact until the day he dies. 

And well… At the rate today is going, that day very well may be today. 

“ _Keith,_ watch out! Keep your board level. Don’t let it tip!” 

He hardly hears Lance’s voice over the roaring wave behind him. The words don’t register until it’s far too late. The nose of his board dips under the surface, bringing his head and chest with it. The imbalance throws off his momentum, sending him overboard as the water swallows him from behind. Whatever remaining guidance— or curses— that Lance throws his way get drowned out as Keith goes under. 

Water floods his ears as he submerges, shocking and disorienting him as he’s pushed and pulled every which way, tumbling as the wave rolls over him. His surfboard disappears from beneath him, shooting somewhere off to the side only to swing back around and peg him in the thigh as the water bends them both to its will. Despite knowing better, he opens his mouth in pain, nearly swallowing half the damn ocean in the process.

He kicks and thrashes his way to the surface, lungs and limbs aching when his head finally breaks air. Hacking up a mouthful of seawater, he gasps as he regains his bearings. Despite this outcome being a regular occurrence, he still grimaces at the sting when he finally opens his eyes. 

But the temporary discomfort is entirely worth it when he’s faced with the most beautiful frown he’s ever seen in his life. 

Lance doesn’t say anything. Simply stands still as stone in the waist deep water, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His lips are pressed in a thin line as he stares Keith down, eyes sharp as daggers.

And… yup. Keith’s convinced. Today is definitely going to be the day he dies. Mark your calendars, everyone. Death by ocean or death by Lance. One way or the other, Keith’s a goner. 

And here’s the thing. He’ll gladly accept his untimely demise if it’s at the hands of Lance. They haven’t known each other for long, but certainly long enough that Keith knows he’d do anything for that boy. 

It’s taken him a while to admit it, what with the way their friendship (see: rivalry) started. Their personalities clashed right from the start and their egos only added fuel to the fire. They were proud and stubborn athletes. Great at their sport and not afraid to admit it. They could shred on their boards better than anyone else in town and they knew it. Flaunted it. 

They practically _lived_ on their boards. They were a _part_ of them. 

Only difference was: Keith’s was designed for land, and Lance’s for water. 

Keith doesn’t even remember how it started, this _thing_ he has with Lance. One backhanded comment here. A few unpleasant words there. They poked and prodded at each other, testing the waters for a time, until finally one of them shoved and the other shoved back. 

Their rivalry spiraled quickly. Lance against Keith. Surfer versus skateboarder. 

It was Lance who had ultimately laid down the challenge. That Keith give a go at surfing. Put his money where his mouth is. Show him what _real_ surfing is like. That it would kick Keith’s ass and swallow him whole if he so much as dared to try. 

Naturally, Keith rose to the bait. He’s never been one to turn down a challenge. Especially not one from _Lance_. He accepted the challenge with vain, only to fire right back with his own, demanding the same thing from Lance, shoving a skateboard into his hands with a cocky smirk. 

But alas, it’s been months since then, and he hates to admit that they’ve come a long way. What started as childish mocking sessions, quickly turned into informal lessons. From those lessons developed a friendship. And that friendship led to— well, whatever the hell this is. 

And _this._ Keith doesn’t have a clue what _this_ is. Doesn’t know if there even _is_ a _this._

All he knows is that he wants there to be. Wants far more than what they have. Wants Lance’s lips on his. Their fingers intertwined. Bodies pressed together. Late nights and mindless conversations. Casual dates and falling asleep on the couch. To know Lance’s past and occupy his future. 

He just wants _Lance_. And despite knowing that Lance will never want him in the same way, that doesn’t stop his poor dumb heart from falling for him anyway. 

So yeah. Death by Lance? He’s accepted it. Anticipated it. _Welcomed_ it even. 

But the ocean?

_Fuck_ the ocean. And fuck _surfing._

“—ith. _Keith._ Are u even listening?” Lance’s voice snaps him back to reality, and it’s only then that he realizes Lance has waded out to meet him, suddenly faced with the full force of his scowl up close and personal. 

Lance sighs, long and suffering, as he drags a wet hand down his face. He shakes his head, muttering something in spanish. Keith doesn’t understand a word he’s saying, but he gets the gist of it. He’s been around Lance enough to know he does this whenever he’s frustrated. It’s a common occurrence during these surfing lessons of theirs. 

“It’s like you’re _trying_ to get yourself killed.” He drops the hand from his face, frustration seeping out only to be replaced by exhaustion. “Do you even _care_ how dangerous surfing is? It doesn’t matter how small the waves are, if you don’t focus you can still get _hurt.”_

A pang of guilt unfurls in Keith’s chest, but his own frustration gets the better of him. He huffs out a breath. “I’m _trying._ You’ve been doing this for years. It’s easy for _you,_ but not me.” 

“It could be.” Lance grumbles, but Keith can already hear the heat behind his words fizzling out. “You _aren’t_ trying, Keith. Not really. I’ve seen you when you're skating. You’re _incredible_ when you actually focus on what you’re doing.” He leans in, eyes gentle but words relentless. “So why aren’t you?”

“I just—” Keith tugs his fingers roughly through his hair, raking the thick, wet mop out of his face. “ _Ugh_ — I can’t focus when I’m _wet_ and _sticky_ in this tight ass suit and the water’s always so goddamn _cold.”_

It’s a lie. A horrible, pathetic lie. 

Sure, the wetsuit he wears is uncomfortable as hell, and _yeah,_ the water’s damn near freezing. His fingers and toes all went numb over an hour ago and if he wears this suit any longer it might just seep into his skin and get stuck there permanently. It’s a pain in the ass to say the least— That much is true.

But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s simply _not_ the reason he can’t focus. 

No. That honor goes entirely to Lance.

Stupid fucking _Lance_ with his dumb bright smile and stupidly flawless skin. His piercing blue eyes and perfectly toned body. Muscles for days. A jawline that could kill. Skilled hands. Intelligent mind. Quick wit and a sharp tongue.

Lance is _killing_ him, both metaphorically and _literally,_ too.

But Keith can’t _help it,_ okay? Sue him. Him and his poor gay heart that can’t keep itself in check. 

Because Lance? Lance is _distracting._

The wetsuit he wears clings to his body in _all_ the right places. He surfs the waves like he owns them, sporting a cocky smirk that _really_ shouldn’t be as hot as it is. His muscles flex as he goes, showing off just how strong he really is. And his _legs._ He has legs for _days._ Long and toned and positively _sinful_ that Keith would love to leave marks with his mouth all over. 

But the fact remains that he _can’t._ And it’s in moments like this, when Lance saunters around him, poking and prodding at Keith’s form, guiding him through the proper motions while every lingering touch sets Keith’s skin on fire and leaves him hopeless but to stare and let his touch-starved heart _dream_ for once. 

It’s in these moments that his mind wanders against his will, thoughts flooding with everything _Lance_ and nothing even remotely related to surfing. That his heart rate picks up speed, leaving his body restless and mind racing. That he somehow finds himself _every godforsaken day_ drowning in Lance’s perfect ocean eyes, while consequently drowning in the _actual ocean._

It’s truly astounding that he hasn’t died yet. 

“That’s a bullshit excuse, Keith. A little _discomfort_ is going to shut you down like that?” 

When Lance pauses for rhetoric effect, Keith can’t even try to defend his claim. It _is_ a bullshit excuse. He just hoped Lance wouldn’t be able to tell, or at least would be merciful enough not to call him out for it. 

Lance doesn’t wait for an answer, either knowing full well that Keith wouldn’t have one, or simply not caring if he did. “No. What’s shutting you down is you letting yourself get distracted because you _want_ to be.” He levels Keith with a look, daring him to challenge the statement, but Keith knows he can’t. There’s no use trying to deny that Lance is a _very_ welcome distraction, no matter how hard he tries to pretend otherwise. 

Lance steps into his space then, getting right up into his face, chests bumping and noses grazing. “I know you can do it, Keith. _You_ know you can do it. So just fucking _do it_ already.”

Keith knows it’s meant to be encouraging as much as it is threatening. Intimidating in a tough-love kind of way. The kind of punch a coach gives to get their players to win. 

But that doesn’t stop the warmth under Keith’s skin from spreading as his mind wanders elsewhere. He can feel Lance’s chest brush against his own with every breath. Each point of contact sends electricity sparking through Keith’s veins. Lance’s face is mere centemeters away, and Keith knows from experience how dangerous this is to his health. 

He needs to get away. Abort mission before his brain short-circuits. 

With a half-grumbled agreement on his tongue, he steps away from Lance under the guise of prepping for his next run, knowing full well the extra distance is more to settle his beating heart than anything else. He abruptly turns to catch his board, floating aimlessly nearby as he hears Lance do the same. 

“You better not let me down this time, Keithy.” Lance calls over his shoulder as he half-swims, half-wades back towards the shore. “Show me what you’ve got!” And just before he turns back around, so quick and so subtle that Keith might’ve missed it if he weren’t always so hyper-aware of Lance, he shoots him a wink, topped off with a cocky smirk that _does things_ to Keith’s insides.

Keith’s eyes fall shut, giving himself a moment to simply _breathe._ He sucks in a deep breath, a desperate attempt to will the heat away from his cheeks and tame his restless mind. Moving far slower than necessary, he crawls onto his board, laying out on his stomach once again and fighting the urge to bang his head into its surface repeatedly to put him out of his self-inflicted misery. 

But as he carefully paddles his way out to sea, a steely resolve and calm determination settle over his bones. Because truthfully? If Lance wants him to do this, then by _god,_ he’s going to do it. As much as he hates to admit it, Keith knows he’d do anything just to make that boy happy. 

“Okay, Keith,” he whispers to himself, though nobody is around to hear him anyway. “You can do this.”

Eyes on the horizon, he studies the waves as he paddles, watching for the proper signs of quality that Lance has ingrained in his memory. When he finds a qualifying contender, he picks up speed, changing direction until he’s lined up with the wave. Arms strained and breaths heavy, he paddles with the wave until it catches up to him, all the while Lance’s voice carries through his mind. 

_Stay in position with the wave. Keep your board level. Don’t push too early. Pop up quick. Steady. Steady. Steady…_

And all at once, he’s doing it. In one swift motion, the ghost of Lance’s voice guiding him, he pushes up from his board, planting feet firmly where arms once were. He takes his stance, core locked tight as he balances on his board and lets the wave carry him forward. 

A smile widens his cheeks as he goes, unbidden and positively _giddy._ Because he’s _got it._ He didn’t fall. His timing wasn’t off. His board didn’t tilt. The wave he rides is larger than any other he’s attempted before and it’s pushing him forward at a speed that gives him the thrill of skating. Except this time he’s _surfing._

And sure, he’s had successful runs before, but it’s been _weeks_ of failed attempts and endless frustration. None of his attempts have ever felt like _this._ He’s steady. He’s confident. He’s powerful. He’s _free._

And he’s fucking _doing it._

His adrenaline thunders and his cheeks sting by the time he reaches the end of his run, momentum slowing enough for him to tip backwards into the water, senses temporarily clouded once again as he welcomes the submerge. He pushes his hair back from his face as he resurfaces not long after, rubbing the water out of his eyes instantly. But before he has the chance to open them, a body barrels into him, lanky arms and legs wrapping fully around him, nearly pulling him back under.

_“Keith!_ You fucking _did it!_ That was _awesome,_ dude, you totally shredded that wave.”

“Lance— I can’t—” He sputters in the water as they start to sink. “You’re dragging me—”

“Oh shit.” Lance quickly untangles himself, supporting his own weight to let Keith breathe. He shuffles back towards the beach a ways, just enough to stand comfortably on the sand, head peeking right above the surface.

Keith follows without hesitation, immediately missing the contact. Surely drowning wouldn’t be too bad if he could have Lance cling to him like that again. 

But he doesn’t mourn the loss for long as Lance pulls him in tight once again, lingering for a few moments longer than is strictly necessary before he pulls away just barely, leaving his arms resting loosely around Keith’s shoulders. 

“I knew you could do it.” Lance’s smile is blinding even in the short space between them. “I’m really proud of you.”

Keith’s responding smile is small, but it speaks volumes just the same. Heat creeps up the back of his neck, spreading to warm his cheeks, and despite what he tries to tell himself, he knows it has nothing to do with the sun. 

“Thanks, Lance.” He can’t find the words to say more, not sure what embarrassing comment will come out if he tries. 

“You really were amazing out there.” Lance’s smile softens into something playful, eyes dancing with mirth. “Not as amazing as _me,_ of course. I mean, let’s be real, nobody is.” He pulls away then, placing a hand to his chest and mimicking a bow as best he can in the water. “Can’t go boosting your ego too much, Kogane.”

Keith rolls his eyes at the antics, but his smile only widens. “Wow,” he deadpans. “An amazing surfer yet still so humble. How does he do it?”

“It’s a gift.” He hooks a finger gun under his chin, shooting Keith a wink. “Although, I gotta admit, despite your _obvious_ lack of skill—” He’s really laying it on thick, isn’t he? “I can’t deny how hot you looked out there.”

The air is all but punched from Keith’s lungs at the comment. It’s said so simply. So casually. So honestly. And yet, Keith’s jaw goes slack, helpless to do anything but stare because… _what?_

Lance lifts a hand, scratching absently behind his neck as his gaze wanders. His confident smile falters only slightly, but Keith doesn’t miss the tinge of red that slowly darkens his cheeks. “Not that you aren’t _always_ hot, I mean— you’re gorgeous no matter what you’re doing. And _wow_ — That just slipped out, didn’t it? Heh, I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, but—” An awkward laugh escapes his lips, and Keith can practically _see_ the word vomit bubbling out of his mouth. “It’s just— I didn’t even expect I’d be _saying_ this but— I don’t— I mean— What I’m trying to— I think you’re—” He stumbles over his words, trying again and again until finally he meets Keith’s eyes, voice dying on his tongue as he stares. 

Then softer. Resolute. “I just.... I think you’re perfect, actually. In every way.” His voice is barely a whisper over the waves, but Keith hears them loud and clear. “I just thought you should know the truth.”

Keith stares. And stares. And _stares._ Mouth opening and closing though no words come out. Heart thundering in his chest, he tries to find his voice to say something, _anything._ But he doesn’t get the chance before the water suddenly swells around him. 

He has just enough time to see Lance’s face light up before the wave smothers him from behind. He holds his breath as he’s thrown into darkness once again, every sound around him becoming muffled and distant except for the crisp clarity of Lance’s voice playing over and over again in his ears.

_Lance thinks he’s hot._

_Lance thinks he’s gorgeous._

_Lance thinks he’s_ perfect.

_And Lance wanted him to_ know _that._

He’s about to push his way to the surface when a pair of steady hands grab his hips. Fighting back the sting, he opens his eyes to find Lance staring back at him, fully submerged. Lance smiles as his grip tightens, pulling them closer until their chests are pressed flush against each other. Keith’s heart thunders, and he’s sure Lance can feel it as he leans in, faces merely an inch apart.

Lance closes the small gap for just a brief moment, brushing their noses together before pulling back half an inch. It’s simple in execution. Almost hesitant. But Keith sees it for what it is. It’s a statement as much as it is a question. Making his intentions clear while giving Keith an out if he wants it. 

As if he ever would. 

Keith laughs to himself as he surges forward, pressing his lips against Lance’s like he’s dreamed of doing for _months._ Lance’s surprise lasts less than a second before he relaxes against Keith’s lips, tilting his head and slotting them together perfectly. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s neck, pressing them even closer as he soaks up every inch of _Lance._

His lungs are burning, but he doesn’t care. He can’t breathe, but he doesn’t care. His limbs are numb, his body aches, his skin sweats, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t _care._

He has Lance in his arms, lips locked and bodies pressed tight, and he’s never been happier. The world could come crashing down around them and he wouldn’t notice. 

But then Lance plants his feet firmly on the sand, holding onto Keith and pushing them upwards. They gasp for air when they break the surface, arms still clinging to one another and foreheads pressed together as they catch their breath. 

Lance’s hair is a mess, half-stuck to his face while the rest is pushed in every direction. The tides have pulled his brows out of shape and beads of water line his lashes. There’s a stray piece of seaweed caught behind his ear, a patch of wet sand stuck to his cheek, and a fresh streak of blood from a recent cut on his chin.

But he’s never looked more beautiful. 

He’s smiling and staring at Keith like he’s the only other person in this world, eyes shimmering against the waves in the summer sun. Keith would give _anything_ just to see that smile everyday for the rest of his life. 

“Did you—” Keith’s voice is hoarse as he stumbles to find his words. “Did you really mean all that? What you said. You really think that way about me?”

Lance nods, slow and sincere. “You’re perfect to me, Keith. I don’t want to keep that from you any longer.” 

Keith’s heart damn near melts right out of his chest, words abandoning him once again. But then Lance purses his lips, brows pinching in exaggerated thought. “Wait, actually, I take it back. You’re _almost_ perfect. In every way except surfing.” He smiles, voice dripping with mirth, laughing through his words. “You still suck at that.”

“Wha—” Keith’s jaw drops as a surprised laugh escapes his lips. “You just saw me _crush_ that wave. You even said you were proud of me.”

Lance simply laughs harder. “You’re right. I _am_ proud of you. But one lucky run doesn’t mean you suck any less.”

Keith tries to pout in mock (see: real) offense, but he can’t quite wipe the smile from his cheeks. “Well, I guess you’re just gonna have to give me more lessons then.”

Lance’s smile only brightens as he hums, making a show of consideration. “Hmm, I suppose that could be arranged. Although, I’d have to check my calendar. I’m a pretty busy guy y’know. I don’t know if I can make time for you—” 

“Oh, shut _up._ ” Keith laughs as he pulls Lance’s hips flush against him once again. His smile doesn’t fall even as he leans in, capturing Lance’s lips to which he meets him eagerly. 

And somehow, against all odds, here at the edge of the ocean, freezing water against his back, sticky wetsuit clinging to his body, muscles aching, lungs burning, surfboard prodding at his side… this feels like home.

It’s true, surfing may be the bane of his existence. The water too cold. The waves too rough. The board too unstable.

But with the way Lance looks at him as he pulls away, smiling in the summer sun, wet hair pushed back in a beautiful mess, crystal blue waves dancing in his even bluer eyes. 

Surfing just might be his new favorite sport.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never surfed a day in my life and didn’t have time to do much research before I had to get this done for Christmas so I apologize if any of the somewhat technical aspects of this aren’t accurate. I tried my best >///<


End file.
